


Mad Season

by chaosmanor



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Nature, Seduction, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:32:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosmanor/pseuds/chaosmanor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The mad season doesn't happen often," Bilbo said. "Not to me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mad Season

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by [samvara](http://archiveofourown.org/users/samvara/pseuds/samvara) and [maharetr](http://archiveofourown.org/users/maharetr/pseuds/maharetr).

Thorin squatted down beside Bifur, hand on his shoulder.

"How goes the watch?" Thorin asked, his voice low so as not to wake the sleeping dwarves behind them.

Bifur nodded and muttered, "Quiet, 'cept hobbit," then puffed on his pipe in a way that conveyed annoyance and amusement in equal parts.

Thorin didn't sigh. He would never sigh over something as minor as an overly-excitable inexperienced hobbit. Definitely not. 

Despite that, Bifur rustled his beard sympathetically in a demonstration of support and understanding for the trials Thorin endured. 

Thorin should know better than to underestimate the ability of his brother-in-arms to read his mind.

Dwalin had sent Bilbo to stand guard at the top of the scree of boulders. He was to watch over the open moorlands, while the dwarves slept at the bottom of a small clough beside a stream. Thorin found Bilbo huddled at the side of the largest boulder, draped in misery.

"Hmm," Thorin said, seating himself against the boulder beside Bilbo in the deep folds of shadow.

Bilbo swallowed then flinched at a birdcall from a nearby hedgerow.

"Hobbits don't spend time on the moors?" Thorin asked, and Bilbo's headshake was felt rather than seen.

"No," Bilbo said. Another birdcall rang shrill in the darkness, sharp and sudden, making Bilbo jump beside Thorin.

"What was that?" Bilbo asked. "Do you know?"

"That's a hen harrier," Thorin said. "The sky dancer bird. In the daylight, I'll show you them darting through the air currents, riding the wind almost too fast to see."

Another noise came, close by in a hedgerow, and Thorin heard Bilbo's breathing falter.

"Come here," Thorin said. "I will teach you the sounds of the moor at night."

Bilbo shuffled closer, and Thorin scooped him up and settled him in front, back against Thorin's chest.

"That's better," Thorin murmured against Bilbo's ear, taking hold of Bilbo's hand. "Listen."

In the starlight the night spread out across the moorland and Thorin waited and listened.

Something chirped across the open ground beside the scree, and Thorin lifted Bilbo's hand and pointed their joined hands out into the darkness.

"That's a stoat over there calling her kits. Can you hear the kits answering?" Thorin said, and Bilbo nodded against Thorin's beard. "If she was in danger, she'd shriek. If she was mating, that sounds different again."

A noise like two stones clacking together sounded overhead, and Thorin wrapped his free arm around Bilbo's chest to stop Bilbo from startling again.

"Stonechat," Thorin whispered. "That's their danger call. Something is hunting out there."

A bird piped, one steady note repeated in the darkness, and Bilbo said, "That's a bird."

"A ring ouzel," Thorin said. "They are thrushes and that is their usual call. They make the same kind of pebbly noises as the stonechat when they're scared."

"So something is hunting the stonechat, but not the ring ouzel?" 

"Or the ring ouzel hasn't noticed," Thorin said. 

Bilbo nodded, and Thorin felt Bilbo's weight shift as he leaned back against Thorin's chest and shoulder. 

The hobbit smelled a little of sweet apples, very clean and sharp when Thorin closed his eyes and inhaled. He smelled of pony too, and of wood smoke.

"That's a peregrine," Bilbo said as a sharp repeated cry echoed off the boulder behind them. "There's a nest near my hole."

"They're silent unless they're nesting," Thorin said. "A peregrine on a nest would make a stonechat sound the alarm."

Bilbo exhaled, his breath loud so close to Thorin, and all of his weight settled back against Thorin's chest. 

"Comfortable?" Thorin rumbled against Bilbo's ear, wondering if Bilbo could tell Thorin was smiling.

"Yes," Bilbo said, no more than a whisper. "Tell me more about the night?"

"Hmm," Thorin breathed. "It's hare breeding season. Everywhere on the moors, hares will be running, breaking their usual solitude and mating."

"Do hares want to be alone?" Bilbo asked.

"I think it is the hare's life," Thorin said. "I think a hare becomes accustomed to loneliness, until the madness takes them again the next season, and they remember not to be alone for a time."

"The mad season doesn't happen often," Bilbo said. "Not to me."

"Burglars and warriors," Thorin said, leaning forward so his mouth rested against Bilbo's hair. "We would both make good hares."

Bilbo turned his head and Thorin found his mouth was resting against the smooth skin of Bilbo's cheek.

"You're on watch," Thorin reminded Bilbo, letting his mouth work slowly down the side of Bilbo's face, until he found the gentle skin of Bilbo's neck. "Don't close your eyes…"

The buttons on Bilbo's vest popped open when Thorin flicked them and Thorin eased his hand inside Bilbo's vest and across his shirt until he found the beat of Bilbo's heart through warm and crinkled shirt.

Bilbo's breath caught in a stutter when Thorin eased Bilbo's shirt open to reach the delight of Bilbo's shoulder, mouth against the tender skin.

"This could be a mad season," Thorin said. "If we let it take us…"

A curlew called, a rising bubbling note, and Bilbo's heart beat steadily under Thorin's hand inside the shirt, no skipped beats or jolt of fear.

Thorin eased his other hand down Bilbo's thigh, smoothing linen over skin, and that time, Bilbo's heartbeat did stumble.

"I want to take you to my bedroll," Thorin whispered. "Lay you down in the darkness and cover your body with my own. Would you let me?"

"Could I close my eyes then?" Bilbo asked, and Thorin felt him quiver when Thorin's hand crept across the front of his breeches.

Thorin moved, so his length pressed against Bilbo's back, the feeling making Thorin's breath catch.

"I want to see your eyes," Thorin said. "I want to watch you while I touch you."

Bilbo was standing proud, straining against his breeches when Thorin eased a hand between the folds of linen. He made a low sound in his throat at the first touch, rocking up into Thorin's hand.

"What else?" Bilbo asked. "Would you do more?"

"If you let me…" Thorin said. "If you let me, I would push against you, slowly, until you eased. Then I would slide inside you until your tightness wrapped around me and we were joined."

Bilbo was making helpless sounds, working himself into Thorin's hand.

"Keep your eyes open," Thorin reminded Bilbo. "Keep watch, for there is a haze before me and I cannot see."

Bilbo whined, wetness slicking into Thorin's hand, and Thorin had to gulp air to hold himself back from spilling.

"What…" Bilbo said, his voice wavering, "what about you?"

"Move forward," Thorin said, pulling his slippery hand from Bilbo's breeches. When Bilbo had wriggled forward, giving Thorin room, he freed himself from the layers of leather and wool with a deep sigh.

The slickness, spread over his aching flesh, made him groan with relief, head falling back against the boulder behind him.

"Keep watch for me," Bilbo said, and a moment later Bilbo's mouth was on Thorin's flesh, burning hot.

It took effort to keep his eyes open and on the moors, more effort again not to wrench hold of Bilbo's shoulders and push into the tightness.

The burning was building, a growl rising in Thorin's throat to be muffled against his clenched teeth, whistling and hissing. 

On the open ground, where Thorin's gaze was locked as tightly as his leg muscles, hares danced in the silvery starlight, dashing around in circles then balancing on their hind legs to push against each other in their frenzy.

Bilbo's hand slid along Thorin's shaft, and his mouth moaned around Thorin's flesh. The growl in Thorin's throat let loose, and he began to spill in a rush.

When Bilbo knelt up again, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Thorin touched his arm and pointed out at the moor, where the hares were leaping and tumbling.

The hares danced and Bilbo leaned back against Thorin.

"Mad season," Thorin said.


End file.
